


Secrets and Sparring

by A_Random_NPC



Series: Voidsinger [11]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Random_NPC/pseuds/A_Random_NPC
Summary: Alvenyr decides it is time for Sinnlyra to begin training - and she is less than thrilled about the prospect.
Series: Voidsinger [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796173
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Secrets and Sparring

**Author's Note:**

> Alvenyr Moonsorrow, Sevarith Moonsorrow, and Tyrvalin Duskmourn belong to @Vaethryn on Twitter. Art of the lads and her other work can be found here: https://twitter.com/vaethryn
> 
> This story was told through a combination of in game roleplaying and writing by me in collaboration with Vae.

“Why are we doing this again?” Lyra yawned, blinking blearily up at Alvenyr as he led them through Old Town toward the SI:7 headquarters. The sun had barely crested over the horizon when he had unceremoniously barged into her home before she’d even had her first cup of tea, telling her to put on her armor and follow him. He had waited impatiently for her to change and chivvied her out the door, practically bursting with energy despite her very obvious fatigue. Even the normally bustling streets of Stormwind were eerily silent in the pre-dawn light, with only the guards and a handful of merchants yawning their way through their rounds. Judging by the amount of puddles on the ground and mud on the demon hunter’s boots, it had rained sometime during the night. A lingering mist adding a chill to the morning air, making her shiver slightly despite the heavy silk she wore. The fact Alv seemed completely comfortable merely added to her already grumpy mood. She scowled up at his mischievous smile, which only seemed to encourage his lively demeanor.

“At the very least you could have let me eat something.”

“And have you puke in the middle of a training session? Nah, you can eat after.” His response was altogether too cheerful for her, so she fell back into her grumpy silence and let him drag her down the cobblestone streets. At least he didn’t toss me over his shoulder and carry me this time, she thought ungraciously as she stepped in a puddle, grimacing when the mud splashed her hem. She sighed, shaking the skirt of her heavy sea silk robe to dislodge the worst of it before glaring at Alv’s back. The hold he had on her hand didn’t slacken as he pulled her past a merchant who blinked sleepily at them as she threw open the shutters of her shop. A farmer leading a horse loaded with produce tipped his hat to them politely, the only cheerfully awake face in the city besides Alv.

“Sighing isn’t going to change the fact we need to figure out what you’re capable of, groupie.” Alv glanced back at her, grinning at her exasperated expression. He stopped and turned towards her, putting his gauntleted hands on her shoulders, his expression turning slightly serious. A bird chirped brightly from a tree above him as he considered her, an oddly peaceful accompaniment to his response. "You need to learn to defend yourself."

“Alvenyr, I recently murdered a man in cold blood and turned his heart into a reliquary. Do you really think that I cannot defend myself?” Lyra snapped back, irritated. A passing gnome looked at her, startled, before scurrying off down a side alley away from them. Alv watched him go with a low chuckle before tipping her chin up softly and bending down as if he were going to kiss her. The wicked smirk he leveled her matched the grinning demon skull mask that leered down at her that covered most of his face. He stopped a fraction of an inch from her lips, the soft breeze blowing his hair against her cheek. She shivered slightly, waiting for him to make a move, biting her lip in frustration when he merely continued to smirk and breathed in her ear,

“And while that might be one of the sexiest things you’ve ever done, I’m still not letting you off the hook when it comes to training.” When she growled at him and turned away, he laughed and spun her back, sweeping her off her feet so he could carry her across a massive, muddy puddle in the center of the street. Lyra tucked her face against the red scarf around his neck, a tiny smile tugging at her lips despite her annoyance with him. As coarse as he could be, there were moments like now where he seemed like an entirely different person. He roughly set her down on the other side and bounded up several sets of stairs towards an area guarded by several footmen in armor that looked just as displeased to be awake as she was. He nodded to them and received a lazy salute from one of them in return. A tall woman wearing the rank insignia of a captain straightened upon seeing Alvenyr, approaching them with a brisk stride and crisp manner. Someone seems well rested, Lyra thought grumpily as the officer stopped and looked them over. 

“Going to be messing with fel, are we?” The woman sniffed audibly, her disdain clear. Like most citizens of Stormwind, she held those who used the magic of the Legion as being beneath her regard. A few of the footmen around them shifted, their helms blocking out if they shared their captain’s same regard for them. The whispers hissed, displeased with what they were sensing, further provoking Lyra’s temper. Before Lyra could give any sort of waspish remark, Alvenyr straightened, his mannerisms taking on a borderline militaristic cast as he saluted her. Lyra hid a smile, seeing the subtle mockery and insolence in every line of his body, even as the officer returned it seriously.

“Yes, Captain. Where would you like us to train so we don’t disturb others? There will be demons involved, so somewhere out of sight would be best so we don’t terrify any citizens.” Lyra goggled at him, but the captain responded to him in an almost automatic manner. Yet again, she was struck by how little she knew of Alv and his past. She mentally compared the way both people before her were carrying themselves and couldn't help but notice the similarities. They both had a sense of military bearing about them that was only apparent in those with long years of service, a trait that was difficult to lose even after decades of civilian life. Despite his carefully hidden mockery, he could still have blended in with any one of the footmen around them just based on his bearing alone. Lyra narrowed her eyes, considering what little she knew of Alvenyr Moonsorrow as she silently rubbed her arms, trying to warm up.

“Ah, a man of sense. There’s several training dummies and a sparring pit behind the SI:7 building. Feel free to use those, since that’s where most other warlocks and demon hunters practice. Helps keep the fel from spreading. All I ask is that you stay away from the stables so you don’t frighten the horses.” The woman gave him a peculiar look, offering him an odd salute that he returned before pointing them in the direction she wished them to go. Lyra followed him quietly as he led the way, staring at his back as she thought about what she had just seen. A faint prickling in her senses told her they had arrived before the sparring area came into view. Despite very obvious attempts to cleanse it, there was still a faint residue of fel and void corruption lingering in the small training yard. She stopped, crossing her arms and staring at Alv as he unslung his warglaives from his back and stretched, grinning at her. He pulled off his mask as well, hanging it from a fence post, the empty sockets glaring sightlessly at her.

“What was that all about?” She asked, watching him from the corner of her eye as he began to gracefully move from one stretch to another. It was fascinating, watching him move. His tattoos glowed faintly in the scant morning light, matching the burning eyes that glanced over at her.

“What was what?” He asked, smirking when he saw her eyes on him. He tossed his hair over his shoulder, exposing more of his chest as he very deliberately flexed, trying to get a reaction out of her. Lyra repressed laugh and rolled her eyes, unwilling to give him the satisfaction even as a blush rose to her cheeks. Getting herself under control, she glared at him, irritated enough to demand answers even though she knew he would likely just try to evade her questioning.

“The way you knew exactly how to handle a grumpy army captain. The way you carried yourself just now.” There was a slight pause as he crossed one arm over the other, stretching his shoulder. She found it interesting that he no longer was able to look her in the eye, and decided not to push her luck. Alv could be extremely evasive when he chose to be, and proved it when he shrugged and ignored her question. He turned and shook out his arms, gesturing at her to join him.

“We’re here to work, groupie. Come here, I’ll show you some stretches you might find useful.” She mentally sighed as the whispers in her head practically giggled with amusement. It was clear she had touched on a sensitive subject, so she let it drop and approached him. There was no malice in his evasiveness about his past, not as far as she could tell. Tyr and Sev had both warned her before that he had been through hell and back, and based on what little she did know, it was understandable that he was reluctant to open up. Still, she hoped that eventually he would instead of leaving her in the dark. Banishing that line of thought, she turned her full attention back to Alv, keeping her expression carefully neutral. There was no hiding her shivering from him when he stepped up and appraised her from head to toe. He stood at parade rest, his hands behind him, professional assessment on his surprisingly somber face. Lyra shifted, digging a toe in the loose, wet sand of the sparring ring, uncomfortable under his gaze for the first time. He wasn’t looking at her as a friend to another, or even as a potential lover. He was looking at her as if she were prey.

“You’re a caster, so I know it takes a while for you to build your power, but you still want to be nimble enough to move. I’m against you fighting in robes to begin with because they can hinder your movement, but I suppose if those are the strongest protection you have, they’ll have to do. Consider making something with as strong of enchantments woven into it that will let you be more mobile. Knowing Az and Negasik, they’ll be taking most of the punishment from anyone who attacks you.” His eyes burned slightly brighter as he reassessed that opinion. “Well, they’d better, otherwise they’ll be answering to me.”

“I’m sure both of them would be delighted to tussle with you,” she replied sarcastically. “How about I call them now and you boys can have a tumble and we can call it a day, hmm?” He laughed and motioned for her to start mimicking his movements, leading her quietly through a set of exercises that left her too busy to offer any more snarky responses. When she struggled or needed correction, he noticed immediately, firmly but competently adjusting her movements with gentle hands and encouragement. By the end of it, she was completely warmed up and limber, her shivering a faint memory as he took her hands in his own and looked at them. The sounds of others working on training dummies or calling cadence drifted on the wind as he inspected her hands, though they remained alone in their small courtyard.

“No callouses to speak of, besides the tailoring ones,” he said doubtfully, his fingers rasping against his facial hair as he scratched his chin. “Building some weapon’s callouses up will take time. You might get some blisters.” The demon hunter dropped her hands, thinking. She flexed them, remembering what it had taken to build up those tailoring callouses. Blisters were sure to be inevitable. “I’d like you to be familiar enough with those knives you can conjure that you’ll be able to use them without thinking. That’ll take some time, too.” She gave a rather unlady-like snort, drawing his attention back to her.

“Alvenyr, Tyr’s already started me on knives.” With a mental twist, she conjured one in her hand, showing it to him. It was more now than a jagged, unbalanced hunk of crystal that she had threatened him with over a week ago in her home. After ample discussions with Tyr and Sev, she had managed to hone it so it was a balanced, deadly weapon that fit her hands perfectly. She had been surprised at Sev’s willingness to help her hone the blades after she had mentioned that they felt unwieldy in her hands. She smiled, thinking of his careful, patient, and surprisingly thorough explanation of how to craft a blade for herself, and appraised the result proudly. It was a wickedly sharp blade, the smoky violet crystal laced with threads of lighter and darker shades giving it a beautifully rippled effect. Tendrils of void smoke curled up her arm to her shoulders, attaching to the tentacles she kept hidden under her long hair. She felt them stir, sensitive to the void energies she now wielded as she held it up for Alv’s inspection. He appraised it, not touching it, nodding with approval.

“Who do you think told him to start training you?” He asked impishly, favoring her with an arrogant smile. She longed to wipe it off his smug face, still rather miffed at him for interrupting her morning. “Just because you can make the weapons better now doesn’t mean you have a damn clue how to use them, so we’ll work on that as well as your reflexes.” He grabbed her free arm and dragged her over to a training dummy, ignoring her protests that she didn’t need such treatment. The chill morning air was burning off as the sun finally made its lazy way above the roofs of the city, the promise of a warm day ahead. Alv slapped a hand against the dummy, sending droplets of dew to splash her, his expression playful when she raised her hands to ward them off. “Alright, show me what he’s shown you so far.”

“There’s no deterring you, is there?” She demanded, turning away from the dummy to face him. Irritated beyond reason, she swiped at her face with a sleeve, wiping away the moisture he had teasingly sprayed her with and snarled. It delighted him to no end to torment and tease her, but this morning she was too exhausted to tolerate it. It had been a difficult week filled with purging the remaining corruption from her wounded arm, coming to terms with the loss of her son, and sorting through regained memories while trying to find some semblance of normalcy. Tyr had been there as much as possible, offering his support and a shoulder to cry on while Sev looked on. Alv had stayed with her for much of it, treating her delicately as the bitterness and pain of her past leached from her soul in bouts of hysterical crying and numbing silence. The return of his normally chaotic self was as much a relief as it was an annoyance.

“Alvenyr, I’ve no need to learn how to fight-” She began waspishly.

“Sinnlyra, if something happens to you because you were unable to protect yourself long enough for me to get there to save you, I will never forgive you or myself.” Alvenyr snapped, his jovial demeanor fading into something deadly. She rocked back on her heels, shocked by his confession as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, sighing. “Look, groupie, you never should have had to face that insane prick on your own. You got lucky, surprising him the way you did. You can’t rely on that kind of luck if you’re ever put in a position where you have to protect yourself, so I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure that you’re trained enough that you don’t even have to think about how to react if you’re put in that sort of situation again. It needs to be reflexive, second nature. You attacking me the other day? That’s the sort of thing we need to encourage.”

“But I almost gutted you.” She replied softly, a shiver of fear coursing through her. He had surprised her, bursting through her door the way he did while she was still teetering on the edge of her barely regained sanity after three hard days of recovery. Alv had fearlessly leaned into her blades, kissing her with such passion it brought a flush to her cheeks even now as she thought of it. When he grinned down at her with a similar flush spreading across his face, she realized that he, too, was remembering that particular detail of the attack.

“Nah. You were quick, but you wouldn’t have gotten the upper hand on me like that.” When she huffed, he laughed and bent down to kiss her on the cheek, his voice husky. Placating her, she realized, even as her exhausted mind started to catch up and consider the implications of the explanation he had given as to why he had dragged her out of her house so early on one of her rare free days.

“Enough fussing, groupie. Get stabbing.”

“I’ll stab you,” she growled, but turned obediently to the training dummy nonetheless, demonstrating what Tyr had relentlessly drilled her on several nights ago. Alv merely grinned and watched, offering the same firm correction as before with her stretches. He poked her in the stomach and reminded her roughly to keep her core engaged, making her wince for forgetting. Tyr had done very much so the same thing when he noticed her making that same mistake. When her arm grew tired, he had her switch hands, watching her clumsily run through the exercises.

“You’ll want to be good enough with both arms eventually that you don’t fumble,” he explained patiently when she asked him why. “You think a fighter isn’t going to notice that you favor your dominant hand over your offhand and not take advantage of that? All they’d have to do is take out or disable your main hand and slowly pick you off after that. Now get stabbing.”

She hated that his argument made perfect sense, but switched hands and began running through the routine again. It pleased her to see that he joined in on a dummy next to her, running drills himself with his warglaives while keeping a watchful eye on her for any corrections he deemed necessary. When he finally nodded with satisfaction, she was perspiring slightly and breathing heavily from the exertion. He had her stretch out her arms again until she caught her breath before grabbing a new training dummy and replacing it with the one she had just been working on. It was engraved with strong enchantments against magical attacks, indicating it was for casters to use for target practice. 

“Now onto a fun part. I won’t say I’m an expert on warlock business, but I want to see how quick your reflexes are when you’re put under pressure.” He led her across the yard, digging a toe in the sand at several intervals to form circles. Pointing at one, he continued to explain. “When I tell you to, I want you to run to each marker and see how many casts you can get off during each time frame. If you can cast while running, do it. I know sometimes your powers work oddly that way once you have enough energy built up. Just casting, no demons.” She nodded, eyeing the distance between each circle he had formed.

“Seems simple enough,” she replied quietly, twitching her robes around her legs. Running in long clothes could be difficult, but she knew he was right. She needed to get faster on her feet. An idea suddenly rose in her mind for a pair of palazzo pants with the appearance of a skirt. She longed to write it down, but tucked the thought away for later as Alv lifted her bodily and plopped her in the center of one of the circles, eliciting a grin out of her.

“I know that look,” the demon hunter said, his voice full of amusement, “You just got an idea how to make your rig more user friendly. It’ll have to wait.” There was a certain fondness in his expression that spoke of his long suffering tolerance of her tendency to scribble ideas down at the oddest times during their outings. If she could patiently handle him chugging vials of fel and dragging her all over creation, then he could tolerate her pausing sometimes to scribble in her sketchbook. That particular conversation had been prompted when he had teased her about it during one of their lunches, her tart response only encouraging his banter. After that, he had been content to patiently watch her scribble, even offering wry commentary about some of her wilder ideas despite knowing nothing of fashion himself.

“Yes,” she admitted, shaking out her hands, “It can wait. It’s just an inclination that’ll need time to design anyhow. I’m ready whenever you are, imp.” Though she had been miffed with how he had started her morning, she had thought of his words while she drilled. He was doing this because he cared, not to be chaotically annoying like she had originally thought. The thought made her reach out and caress his arm, her face lighting up in an adoring smile when he turned to look at her curiously. She was pleased to see a faint glow rise in his cheeks, a sure sign he was blushing, and leaned against him affectionately for a moment to encourage it.

“Hey, enough of that.” Alv growled, gently pushing her back to the center of the circle. He took a moment to soften the harshness of his words by stroking her cheek with his knuckles. “Don’t think you can distract me with whatever it is you have in mind, groupie. You’re still going to do the exercise.”

“I know. I won’t fuss anymore.” Lyra replied, kissing his knuckles before he could draw his hand away. It delighted her to no end to see the flush grow. Their relationship had changed, becoming more lighthearted and yet heated over the past week since she regained her memories. Just that alone had been worth the absolute hell she had endured to recover them. Though the grief for her son still caught her unexpectedly, knowing she was free to pursue a relationship with Alv had been a silver lining. She looked down to twitch her skirts in order to hide the small flash of sadness that followed the thought of her son so Alv wouldn’t think it was directed at him.

“Call the time, Alvenyr. I’m ready.”

He backed out of the circle and found a place to perch on the fence that surrounded the sparring pit, nodding once to her to indicate that she should ready herself. She saw him cross his arms before she turned her focus back to the dummy, reaching to the latent powers that lay just out of reach. They sang to her just as she sang to them, the power wrapping around her like cool scarves of the most delicate silks. The whispers delighted in her willingness to work in concert with them, softly chiming in the back of her mind almost cheerfully as she simultaneously held them at bay while siphoning the energy they offered her.

“Begin!” Alv’s voice echoed across the ring like a gunshot as she spun the energy into a ball of pure shadowflame and sent it rocketing off toward the dummy. It impacted in a splash of green and violet fire, the flames licking the center of the target for a moment before disappearing in a whoosh of smoke. She followed it with a longer cast, building a demon bolt in her hands that she sent screaming towards the dummy as power continued to build within her core. The bolt took on the shape of a sinister, grinning demon skull made of pure flame as it flew, howling through the air to strike the heart of the magical construct. Considering the power was made of the soul of an imp, its form was unsurprising.

“Move!” Alv barked, startling her just as she began to build power for another shadowbolt. Lyra stumbled a little in the loose sand, but made it to the next circle with few issues, panting slightly as she began casting again. The singing in her head made her realize that the void power was starting to spread throughout her body as it built within her, making her draw herself up with alarm. Alvenyr had never seen her void form, and she was unsure how he would react to that darker side of her powers. That thought made her fumble as she aimed her cast, the resulting flames dying in the sand at the target’s base instead of striking true. Gritting her teeth, she began spinning together another shadowbolt, choosing to ignore the creeping entropy that crept across her skin in thick cracks that shimmered with violet power. Alv was going to have to see this side of her eventually, so it might as well be now in a controlled environment.

He let her stay in this circle for a while, allowing her to send bolt after bolt of power off toward the target. When he finally called for her to move, she chose to bleed off some of the excess void energy by ripping a rift across the training yard to the circle furthest away from her and darting through it. Once she skidded to a halt, she sent a pair of demon bolts screeching toward the targets, the skulls bursting in massive gouts of flame that sent the target rocking.

“Move!” Alv’s voice came from a different part of the yard, but she didn’t glance to see where he was. She picked up her skirts and ran to a new circle, feeling the cold entropy of the void freezing the sweat that beaded her skin. She sent another shadowflame careening toward the dummy after a moment of reorienting herself, barely recognizing the grey skin cracked with deep rivulets of void energy that coursed down her arms. Another demon bolt burst from her fingertips, this one stronger than the last, sending the target flying against the brick wall behind it as flames licked the spot in the yard where it had last stood.

“Halt!” 

Lyra panted, shunting off the remaining energy back into the abyss, her skin slowly warming as the power left her. The cracks in her arms slowly retreated back up to her shoulders and chest, creeping back to her scar and blind eye. The channels the energy had carved along her skin ached slightly, though she knew it was more of a mental sensation than a physical one. The tentacles she normally kept hidden had been exposed by her mussed hair in her mad dashes to each marker Alv had drawn in the sand, making her wince. Colors in every shade of blue, silver, and violet swirled madly over the thin surfaces, the patterns almost hypnotic in their dance. Ribbons of the dark void energy that had swirled around her body slowly faded from view as she continued to siphon the lingering corruption back where it belonged. The whispers protested, fighting her, wanting her to continue using her powers, but she silenced them firmly with a harsh mental twist. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to calm her breathing before looking for Alv to see what his reaction to her void form would be.

A crunch of boots in the sand told her of his approach, even as the whispers crooned to her in warning. They stopped close to her, forcing her to open her eyes and look up at the taller man. The chaotically giddy look on his face was so unexpected it nearly made her laugh.

“That was… That was fucking awesome!” He grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her in the air, spinning her around. She squeaked, wrapping her arms around his neck to brace herself, then burst into laughter when he stopped, grinning up at her. “Groupie, that was sick. Have you always looked like that when you do the void thing?”

“Yeeessss,” she said slowly, still trying to catch her breath as she looked down at his handsome face. She took a moment to stroke a stray piece of hair that fluttered near his eyes away and considered her next words. “Before… Everything… I had issues controlling it. The mental block also interfered with my ability to control the void energy because it was essentially made of void itself to begin with. Because of that, I would fall into trances that threatened to overwhelm me and suck me into the abyss, mentally and emotionally, in moments of inattention. Tyr’s seen some of it, but Sev. Well. Sev’s seen this before.” Alv looked slightly disappointed at the revelation that his brother had seen her void form before him, but shrugged, his grin returning quickly. Repressing a giggle, Lyra bent down and kissed his forehead between his horns, whispering softly, “I don’t think he was nearly as impressed as you are, though.”

“Takes a lot to get any sort of reaction out of him, you should know that. Your void form is creepy, but in a cool way. You did well, despite a few misses here and there.” He slid her slowly down his chest until her feet were once more firmly on the ground. The slightly feral grin he had on his face shifted to thinly veiled curiosity when he spied the undulating tentacles that lay across her shoulders. Before she could stop him, he reached out and gently lifted one of them, running his hand down its length as he inspected it.

“Alv, please… Those are very sensitive.” Lyra gasped, a shudder running through her frame. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but the delicate skin that coated it tingled with the burning fel energy that coursed through his body. She rarely thought about them, since they only seemed sensitive to whatever energy was flowing in her vicinity, finding it easier to just tuck them away and forget. They took on a slightly greenish tinge in response to his fel blood, the color blending with the blues and purples that coursed down their lengths. Lyra pressed her hands to her cheeks, hoping to cool them as he gave her a burning, knowing look as he softly tucked it back into her hair.

“Sensitive, huh? Is that why you’ve never shown them to me before?” The smirk he gave her spelled nothing but trouble as he leaned down and followed up his question with something in ancient Darnassian. She didn’t understand a single word of it, but the tone was absolutely unmistakable especially when coupled with that particular look. Her lips twitched as she repressed a similar smile, knowing he’d catch the interest in her eyes easily enough. A careless flick of her wrist sent the rest of her tangled hair over her shoulder before she daintily caught his chin between her thumb and forefinger, holding his face close to hers.

“You are aware, Alvenyr, that if you told me what that meant then I could actually do something about it.” She purred as she ran her thumb over his chin. A slight thrill filled her when she watched his eyes flick from hers to her lips and back again, his smirk taking on a lazy cast. When he leaned forward, intent on kissing her, she laughed and turned her head, denying him the satisfaction. “Ah, no my darling, you said we were training. Kissing is clearly not on the training docket.”

“It could be, though,” he murmured, his raspy voice sending a pleasant shiver through her. He lightly brushed her hair away from her neck and kissed her there, making her hum softly, enjoying his attention. Her hands automatically went to his shoulders, flexing slightly when he laid another gentle kiss right under her ear. He chuckled, his voice deeper than normal. 

“You’re right, though. I still have one more surprise for you, groupie.”

“Oh? Pray tell what it could possibly be, Alvenyr.” Amusement joined the desire in her voice as he straightened, her hands trailing through his long hair. A flicker of fel flame ran over his skin, startling her as he stepped back, grinning down at her.

“We’re going to spar.” Disbelief chased away any other emotions as she stared at him, completely shocked. He darted over to where he had set his warglaives and mask, kicking up a spray of wet sand behind him. Lyra crossed her arms, glaring at him as he affixed the mask to his face and brandished his warglaives at her. “Go ahead, call Az or whoever you think you’ll need to fight me. Don’t worry, I won’t kill them, just rough them up a little. We need to see how you work as a team.”

“I am not sending my minions against you, Alv.” Lyra’s voice was completely flat when he sauntered up, spinning his glaives in his hands. Despite the weapons being massive, he made it look effortless. Judging by the cocky smile that was barely concealed by his mask, he knew it was impressive and expected her to react accordingly. She huffed a sigh, running a hand through her hair to push it out of her face. 

“Darling, they just fed on flesh not a week past, do you really think it wise to antagonize them until they’ve had a chance to work that out of their systems?” 

“You’re the warlock, not me, Lyra.” He shrugged, whipping the glaives around him so quickly that they made the air sing. He spun, executing a small battle dance, his muscles flexing and relaxing as he moved, the fel energy he used to enhance his abilities making his tattoos glow eerily across his skin. Exasperated, she threw up her hands and opened a void rift, reaching deep within it to withdraw her staff. Watching her, Alv grinned, knowing that he had won as he stamped and came to a halt, his glaives settling gracefully at his sides. He pointed to a small hourglass that blazed with enchantments that he had set on the fence post behind him.

“Call in Az. We’ll only do a five minute round, since you’ve already been working hard this morning.”

“He’s going to rip you to shreds,” she groused, but began channeling anyway, mentally sketching the summoning sigils needed to bring one of her more dangerous minions into the mortal plane. Around them, the birds that had been singing in the trees fell silent and fled, sensing the deep pulse of fel magic that emanated from her being. A portal shimmered into existence next to her before a large, clawed foot stepped through followed by the rest of the massive wrathguard that she had come to view as more than a minion, but a partner. Az-Amal bowed slightly to her, the massive axe on his back rattling as he did so before turning to glare at Alv, who gave him a cheeky two fingered salute.

“Hey Az. Fancy a bit of sparring?” The demon appraised Alv from its slightly more superior height, growling under his breath. Alv didn’t look perturbed at all, but grinned from under his mask. Lyra repressed another sigh and stepped between them, shooting Alv a warning look not to antagonize the demon, which he promptly ignored when he made a rude gesture toward Az.

“Mistress, tell me you did not summon me to fight with this… Stinky half-man.” Az’s deep voice held a note of long suffering disgust as he continued to glare at Alv, who scowled at being called ‘Stinky’ once again. Lyra hid a smile as she turned and laid a soft hand on Az’s forearm, drawing his attention down to her. The demon’s tail lashed, the heavy spiked mace at the end of it drawing long gouges in the sand of the sparring pit. His double horned head turned to her, though he kept one eye on Alvenyr.

“Yes I did, Az,” she said quietly, ignoring his huff of annoyance. “Alv is training me to defend myself, and I’m afraid that will include you and the others eventually as it continues.” He growled, glancing at the demon hunter who looked completely unperturbed by his anger, but turned his attention back to her when she clouted him lightly on the bicep, her voice going sharp with annoyance.

“Look, Az, we both know that what happened with Caemil is not likely to happen again. We got lucky that he was overconfident, half mad with desire, and that all the rest of the pieces practically fell into our laps in order to take him down. You of all people should know why it's necessary for us to learn to work together as a team. You’ve been alive for how many millennia before coming into my service? You know it is needed.”

The demon shifted, thinking, his clawed feet digging into the wet ground as he considered her words. Finally, he nodded, unstrapping the axe from his back and swinging it back and forth to limber up, the flames in its core emanating a dull roar as it passed through the air. Az held her gaze a moment longer before baring his teeth at her and rumbling,

“I will do this. For you.” 

“Thank you. You will be suitably rewarded for your efforts today.” Az’s eyes blazed at that, his expression turning hungrily bloodthirsty as he turned to advance on Alv. Sensing the nefarious intentions emanating from the creature, the demon hunter growled back, lowering himself into a crouch so he was poised to strike. Lyra hissed, drawing both of their attention to her. 

“Alv is not the reward, and you will only spar with him. He is not to be killed, maimed, or harmed. You will pull your blows accordingly, or else I will drag you into the Nether and destroy you so thoroughly that you will never have an opportunity to respawn. Got it?”

Lyra stepped up beside the wrathguard scowled up into his cross expression fearlessly. There was a brief battle of wills that passed through the connection that had bound them together after forming a pact so many months ago, his defiance warring with her dominance. After a long moment, the demon snarled at her, but gave a subtle shift to indicate that he would follow her commands. 

“Puny mortal,” Az muttered grumpily, his tail lashing. The words, while rude, were almost a ritual in their own right between them. She had never truly understood why Az had accepted the pact with her so willingly, not when he so often acted disrespectfully toward her and continually tested their bond. It was only with the death of Caemil that she understood that he had seen the strength she had hidden inside of her, and was willing to serve her for that, if nothing else.

“Incompetent minion,” she snapped back irritably, poking him once with the tip of her staff. “Go play nice with Alvenyr.”

“If you insist, Mistress Lyra.” The wrathguard cracked his neck, dropping his maw into a feral snarl at the demon hunter. “I will take pleasure in beating him into the dirt.”

“If I didn’t think you would, I wouldn’t have called you, dear.” She looked over at Alv, who still remained in a ready stance, watching them. “Alvenyr, are you ready?”

“So long as ugly there doesn’t try to eat me.” He gave the demon a mocking salute, insolence in every line of his body as he dug his feet into the rapidly drying sand of the pit. Alv gestured to the hourglass on the fence post, drawing the demon’s attention to it. “Five minute bout, Az.”

Az nodded gruffly, settling himself into a crouch on his long, digitigrade legs, ready to strike as Lyra reached for her powers once again. The demon side eyed her, nodding to indicate his readiness as she slowly built energy within her core. Her staff hovered in the air beside her, a thin tendril of void keeping it close to her while freeing up her hands to cast. Alv’s grin was nothing short of savage as he slapped the top of the hourglass and barked,

“Begin!”

Az roared as he leapt towards Alv, his axe swinging in a massive overhand blow meant to cleave the demon hunter from his crown to his feet. Anticipating such a move, Alv released a pulse of fel, sending him zipping across the ring toward Lyra, his hair streaming behind him like a banner. Lyra released a shadowbolt toward him, trusting he could deflect or dodge it, her heart in her throat. She had never truly watched Alvenyr fight, nor faced him in a sparring match herself. Sure, she had used the Brawler’s Guild herself to train, but those she had fought in the underbelly of Stormwind’s tram were nothing like the deadly, graceful power that Alv so casually wielded against her now.

He grinned, flipping away from her at the last second, her shadowbolt exploding on the sand where he had been a fraction of a moment before. She grimaced and twisted another into being, directing Az to halt the demon hunter in his tracks by tossing his axe at him to stun him. Az complied, sending his weapon hurtling toward Alv, who merely grinned and gestured, locking the demon in a prison of fel power. Alv deflected the axe with his warglaives, then leapt, spinning in place, unleashing a burst of fel flames along his skin. Lyra sent the shadowflame off after him, striking him solidly on the shoulder. He grunted, but shook it off, the flames of her blow fading in the face of his own.

“That’s the best you can do, groupie?” He mocked her even as he charged, the burning fire in his eyes building. Her own eyes widened as she dropped her grasp on her shadowbolt and scrambled out of the way as he sent a blast of fel power after her. She reached for the void and psychically screamed at him, interrupting his eye beam, forcing him to stop as he dealt with the fear she had just used to overwhelm his mind. Using his disorientation to her benefit, she twisted a demon bolt between her hands and fired it off at him just as Az roared and broke free of the prison Alv had trapped him in. 

“Mistress, imps and stalkers.” Az said gruffly as he retrieved his axe and darted toward the demon hunter, making Lyra nod in assent. She looked to the heavens and ripped open a portal above Alvenyr, sending a demonic meteor careening toward him. He shouted a laugh and shifted away, striking furiously at Az, who parried the blows with his axe. Imps leapt from the resulting crater, their chittering excitement followed by tiny bouts of flame from their clawed hands. Pipbis screeched at Alv before scampering to her, crawling up her skirts to her shoulder, nuzzling her a moment before directing its fellow imps with chittering cries in demonic. Alv grinned at all of them, no longer disoriented as he zipped around, his blades flashing as they danced and scored light marks on all of her demons. Az himself began to spin in response, roaring as he used both his tail and axe with brutal efficiency against his opponent. The demon hunter managed to dodge and parry many of the blows, though Az was clearly sticking to his word by pulling the worst of his strikes to not harm him.

Lyra ripped open another portal beside her, calling upon her dreadstalkers, who howled as they leapt from the Nether after Alv. Seeing himself flanked by her minions, he leapt once more into the air, the pulse of demonic energy she felt through her connection with the fel making her eyes widen with alarm. When he slammed down, he had transformed into something much more terrifying than anything she could conjure from the Nether. Her demons were dazed by the impact, reeling a moment as he straightened and snarled at her, giving her a good look at what he had become.

“Inquisitor,” she whispered to herself, slightly stunned as she recognized some of the more demonic aspects his body had taken on in his metamorphosis. He gave a quick nod of assent before turning on her minions, striking them with controlled blows that left them howling with rage. Inquisitor, and yet… More. The grinning mask he wore had somehow fused with his face, the grinning, skeletal visage now eerily glowing with the fel power that surrounded him. Massive spikes jutted out of his arms, shoulders, and chest acting as deadly weapons as well as armor that would be difficult for an enemy to grasp. The claws that tipped his fingers had become abnormally long and sharp, each one a dagger in its own right meant to rend flesh from bone. Green flames flickered up and down his horns, adding to his frightening appearance as he leaned forward and taunted Az, who roared in return. For the first time since meeting him, Lyra felt a tremor of fear in her heart, wondering if he truly was strong enough to keep the demon within himself chained.

She shook off her fear and shot another demon bolt after him, watching him shrug it off like it was nothing when it impacted the center of his chest. Pipbis screeched, sending the imps hurtling towards him, tiny explosions erupting against his body where they disappeared into tiny portals to go back to the Nether. She summoned more with another meteor, watching Az parry the impossibly fast blows Alv leveled his way, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Alv twisted in the air, his eyes charging as they sent another beam of pure fel not towards Az, but her. Pipbis and the whispers all screamed a warning, making her scramble out of the way even as she sent another blast of power toward him. He was impossibly fast, the beams digging long trenches in the ground behind her as she ran. Desperate, she ripped open a rift and passed through, coming out across the yard from him. Seeing her disappear, Alv turned his attention back to Az, swiping at him with his warglaives. Az howled, his axe slamming ineffectually against the spikes on the demon hunter’s shoulders. A harsh blow from Alv in return sent him careening across the yard to slam against the wall, disappearing in a flash of fel and smoke. Lyra felt through their bond that it would take a while for him to regenerate, and considered her options on summoning a new minion as Pipbis screeched obscenities at Alvenyr from under her hair.

Alv cackled, clearly enjoying himself, plowing through her remaining minions and sending them back to the Nether as if they were nothing before finally corralling her against the fence with his warglaives. While she gasped, trying to comprehend just how quickly he had destroyed all of her minions, the timer began to ring.

“And that’s time, groupie.” He had yet to shed his demonic form, his normally raspy voice echoing malevolently in her ears. Alv leaned down from his greater height, his twisted, corrupted features a fraction of an inch from her own. The stench of fel and brimstone washed over her as he regarded her, flames darting over his skin. It was an odd contrast to the deep, icy cracks that marred her own. Pipbis hissed at Alv in demonic from where it hid in her hair, it's rude words drawing a malicious laugh out of the man. Realizing that could be a problem, she dismissed the imp before it could try to come to her rescue, not wanting to provoke Alv more than he already was in this form. He snarled, sensing her actions, but didn’t protest.

“Are you afraid, Sinnlyra?” The question startled her. Her breath stilled a moment as she struggled to get her heartbeat under control, the lingering adrenaline coursing through her body making it difficult to concentrate. There was nothing for her to judge the meaning behind that question, no inflection or expression to use as a benchmark for how she should react, not when his face was hidden behind that skeletal mask. Alv reached out and lightly placed one massive, sharp claw against her chest over her heart, the tiny amount of contact where the tip punctured through her robe sending a stinging burn across her skin. 

“Does it terrify you to know that I could kill you where you stand and you’d be helpless to stop me?” With a start, she realized she wasn’t just hearing his voice in her ears, but in her mind as well. Inquisitors held sway over secrets and whispers, that side of him warring with the whispers of the void that had been her constant companions these past few years. Whatever answer she gave, he would know the truth as surely as if she had screamed it out loud for all of Stormwind to hear.

“Yes,” she admitted softly, staring into the flaming eyes that hovered above her face. There was no shame in admitting a natural response to his demonic form. She fought to keep her voice calm, but the malicious grin he gave her told her that her efforts were in vain. Not wanting him to misunderstand her, she answered with all the honesty she could give, pouring every emotion she felt in her heart into the rest of her response. Despite her fear, he was still her Alvenyr.

“It is terrifying, finally seeing this side of you, just as I am certain it was terrifying for you in your own way seeing me in my void form.” She slowly reached up and cupped her hands around the boney mask he wore that had somehow become part of his face, careful not to touch his skin. With the amount of fel running through his body and void in hers, any direct contact with his flesh would be sure to burn them both. As it was, she suppressed a gasp at the stinging burn that played across her fingers, as if she had grabbed a pan that was still slightly too warm to handle. He growled, sensing her pain, but held still as she softly caressed his mask, a tiny smile growing on her face despite her fears. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to it, her lips stinging from even that brief contact, wishing she could kiss him properly on the lips instead in spite of the danger. The flames that poured from his eyes flickered brightly as she completed that thought, though if it was from surprise or interest, she couldn’t say. There was a slight flicker in the corner of her eye as he raised his taloned hands to her hips, the heat pouring off of them scalding her even through the thick fabric of her robes. She stepped closer, encouraged by his response, unable to bear the distance even as her instincts screamed at her to run.

“Seeing you this way doesn’t change anything about what I feel for you. Right now, you’ve chosen to shine a spotlight on one dangerous, frightening aspect of yourself. But you are more than what you are in this moment in time. You are a deeply complicated man with a past shrouded in mystery, whom I have come to cherish and adore. That means all of you, including this side of you.” Lyra leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the grinning demon skull that hid his true face from her, closing her eyes as she continued to speak softly so only he could hear. Her forehead burned, but less now than when she had first touched him, making it easier to withstand the contact. His hands flexed on her hips before slowly sliding up to her waist, the low rumbling in his throat softening as he listened to her words. There was beauty in their combined pain, the delicate entwining of their agony blending into something achingly sweet and precious that only they could bear together. Savoring that thought, Lyra continued to murmur to him, finally giving a voice to words they both needed to hear.

“You accepted me for all of who I am recently, all of the good and the bad, and everything in between. You know everything of who and what I am and yet still choose to trust me. I can do no less for you, beloved. After all, you are, and likely will always be, one of my brightest memories.” There was a shimmering pulse through the fel as Alv’s face changed beneath her hands as he released his demonic form. Sensing the danger pass, she did the same, siphoning her power back to the void. Lyra opened her eyes when she felt his hands cup her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, the stinging pain fading at his light touch. Lyra stood on her tiptoes and tilted the mask that was no longer fused with his skin up to his forehead, pressing a kiss to his mouth that he returned hesitantly. He withdrew slightly before returning to capture her lips with a slightly possessive growl, his hands lightly teasing even as he ravaged her. She threw her arms around him, her thoughts filled with nothing but the man who held her heart.

“You really are going to be the death of me,” she murmured when they parted, swaying slightly on her feet even as he held her safe. He kept their foreheads pressed together, the soft breeze blowing away the remaining stench of fel. Lyra closed her eyes, enjoying the contact and the warmth of the sun on her skin despite the building ache she felt in her muscles from the morning’s exertions. They stood together, the sounds of the bustling training yard and city falling away in the weight of the silence that had wrapped itself around them. For a moment, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Alv heaved a sigh, his breath ruffling her hair.

“Lyra-” He began, his voice uncertain, but she cut him off, shaking her head firmly. She moved her hands to take his so they were palm to palm, admiring how he dwarfed her own before clasping one to her cheek. 

“No, darling, we don’t need to talk about this now. It’s been a long morning for the both of us, and that conversation is one we should have when we’re both rested, clean, and fed.” Lyra stepped away from him to give him space, but not before tracing a long, lingering caress down his chest. The look he gave her was indecipherable as he yanked his warglaives out of the fence and nodded, stepping aside to let her pass to pick up her staff, which had fallen the moment she released her powers. She brushed sand off of it and looked around the wreckage of the training yard they had left in their wake and chuckled softly before ripping open a void rift large enough for both of them to pass through. Lyra reached out her hand again to Alv with an adoring smile.

“Come home with me, imp. We’ll have a bath and some breakfast, then go see what other trouble we can get ourselves into today.” He stared at her, but took her hand, a tiny smirk growing on his lips as they stepped through the portal together to her home.

“Alright, groupie. Let’s do that.”


End file.
